


I say a little prayer for you

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [101]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Across seasons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, major feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne says a little prayer. More than once.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [101]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	I say a little prayer for you

While not extremely devout, Brienne is a believer. A warrior, she is no stranger to blood and pain, but like anyone else with a heart, she cannot take the sight of too much suffering.

She looks again at the man mumbling incoherently in his sleep. 

_He took this for me._

If he had not decided to better her fate and left her at the mercy of her rapists, none of this might have happened.

“ _Jaime_ ,” he whispers, his head lolling from left to right. “My name’s Jaime.” Even in his subconscious, it continues to torment him.

And that bothers her.

Something wedges itself deeply into her chest; it is not pity, not just guilt. It is compassion and gratitude, surely, but once she has accounted for what is easily identifiable, there is a part of it she cannot define.

“Let him recover, please,” she says to herself. “Let him make it back to his family.”

It has been a while since she has prayed for someone. With Renly, she never had the time nor the chance. But with Jaime—

She glances at the once-handsome face that has been wasted away.

_He does not deserve this._

Prayers are usually from the heart, and most often for the ones you love and care for, but Jaime neither has a place in her heart nor does she—

Guilt and compassion and gratitude—are these not good enough to say a little prayer for one?

+++++ 

His hand is all Brienne can see. The good one holding on to hers, the maimed waves helplessly in the hope of sanctuary until it is secured by a rescuer.

“Don’t let go,” she yells, pulling with all her might. 

_Don’t let the bear beat me to him,_ she cries out in her mind, with hope and despair, both, wishing her call of distress could be heard. Strange, really, that while it had not occurred to her to summon the Seven when her own fate was hanging from a noose, now, her heart nudges her towards it.

_Conscience. Not heart._

He came back for her. He put himself before the beast, letting her climb to safety first.

Yes, it is her conscience, for her heart belongs to Renly.

Of course it does.

+++++

“Goodbye, Brienne.”

The past comes together in her mind—the good, the bad, everything. Her eyes begin to flood, and before he can take note of it, she turns away. This is not the way it should have been. Renly should never have slipped away from her heart. Now only a memory, being in love with him would have been easier to deal with. She can live with it, reliving those happy moments, but with Jaime—

It is not right to want the one you cannot have, but is it wrong to harbour a hope to see him again?

 _Let this not be goodbye, please,_ says her heart this time, when she turns to catch one last glimpse of him.

_Just one more time._

+++++

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The pain in his voice is hers, too. His wish begins to take the form of another little prayer as she walks out of his presence again. She had come unprepared for another goodbye, another realization that they have been, and always will be on opposite sides of this bridge called life. Starks and Lannisters—that is what counts when it comes to greater good, but does it have to end with their blades pointed at each other?

 _I ask not for him to be mine,_ Brienne murmurs to herself as she makes the endless walk to her horse. _Only that it doesn’t come to the worst._

Never the two of them might _meet_ , that she understands is her fate, but this, she fervently hopes, the Seven would oblige her with. 

This, she knows, is not entirely unreasonable. She is allowed to listen to her heart at times. She is allowed to hope the bridge isn’t torn down by either of them.

+++++

The gods have granted her everything she’s asked for. They have even bestowed upon her something more—his presence back in her life, his sword aiding hers, his hand just a hand-hold away from her.

But as they stand facing the night, the prospect of what is to be sends shivers down her spine. It is not her life she worries about, but another painful goodbye. She doesn't want to lose him to eternal darkness. Not yet.

And it is the Stranger she reaches out to this time. _Not tonight,_ she looks up to the skies and thinks. _Take me if you have to,_ she bargains, hoping the deal might have him thinking.

When the mayhem begins, it is not just Pod her eyes keep returning to. 

When Jaime’s scream pierces the air, her sword is at his rescue.

When she slashes her way through obstacles, cutting down those that threaten him, she leaves not one, seeking the help of every one of the Seven.

_Me, not him._

_Please._

+++++

Joy and relief are in the air, but a strange emptiness stands guard, barring the happiness from entering her heart.

Jaime came here to take the side of the living. And now that the deed is done, will he not return to be where he belongs?

“We fought the dead and lived to tell the tale,” he says, coaxing her out of her shell. “If now is not the time to drink, when is?”

His smiling face, his hand on hers—while all this stays with her tonight, tomorrow might not be the same. What good is filling a pail to the brim if, after a few golden hours, it will drain down to nothing?

“I must leave.” Brienne pulls her hand free of his grasp. “I am unwell.”

She hurries away before either of her companions can say a word, heading in the direction of the ramparts.

She must bury this new pain that is now starting to take her down. And for that, she must keep away from him. She could say another prayer; could wish for this one thing for herself, just this once. But it is not right to yearn for the one you can’t have when, every waking minute, he dwells on the love he is now parted from. 

His heart is taken, and to pray he be kept apart from his lover… she cannot bring herself to that. 

“Please grant him whatever he wishes for,” she calls out to the gods, looking out into the dark when alone at last. No one would be here on a cold night like this when there is enough warmth and revelry downstairs. “Let him be happy for the rest of his life. Let him be with the one he—”

“My lady.”

Her heart wants to leap, but she holds it down, keeping a tight check on her emotions when he joins her nighttime survey of the castle. “You ought to be rejoicing with your brother,” she says, for getting away from him is the only way to make this easier.

“That can wait a while.” He steps in beside her. Is it her imagination or has his arrival surrounded her with warmth? “Why did you feel the need to get away under the cover of a lie, Brienne?”

“I wanted to be alone.” She tries not to sigh. “Have you come to bid me goodbye?” she asks, instead of offering reasons for her solitude. It can’t be anything else. When the new rays of the sun emerge from their hiding, he has no purpose here anymore.

“Goodbye?” He sounds confused, looks it, even. 

She carefully conceals what she feels from her voice when she says, “Now that it is over, don’t you want to be with—” 

“I do.”

She’s about to murmur another excuse and slip away to someplace else where he cannot easily find her, but his hand finds hers, stopping her just like he did in Harrenhal. “I was hoping the gods would grant me this one thing, too, my lady.”

Surprise wins over the warmth of his skin on hers. “You never pray—”

“Not often, but—”

“You don’t believe—”

“I do, sometimes.” Something in his voice tells her not to argue back. “I said a little prayer for you when you set out to find Sansa,” he reveals, his eyes revealing the depths of his heart. “I did, every time I saw you only to part company with you, and every time you crossed my mind.” He looks up to the starry bed of black. “I entrusted your safety to _them_.” Exhaling heavily, he turns the intensity of his gaze back at her again. “And just before I came here looking for you, I let myself indulge in another plea.” His hand gently strolls up her arm, infusing all of her with the heat of his touch. “I _did_ pray to be with the one I love, Brienne.”

“I wished the same for you,” she admits, blinking profusely, such an unexpected turn of this night overwhelming her. “Only, I thought—” 

He shifts closer, his eyes only for her. “Have the gods heard our prayers tonight?”

“I should think so,” she whispers, a flood of joy gushing into her heart. 

When he kisses her, it is no prayer but a thanks she sends floating into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a strange mood today, so this is the result of that. Don't blame me :D  
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
